Creed

Making a living can be deadly work

On a lonely airstrip on the otherside of Naboo

"I've got a bad feeling about this" said Loda as she unplugged the fueling hose beneath the Z-95 headhunter.

The trandoshan at the top of the antique fighter was cursing a steady string of expletives in Dosh as he finished ripping the canopy off the fighter, letting it crunch into the tarmac without much fanfare. It was somewhat distressing to note that the plexiglass crumpled like a bad suit the moment it hit the ground, making Loda twice as certain that it'd never have survived the rigors of space.

"The scorekeeper-" began the automatic translator hooked into the dashboard of the fighter before Loda started shouting over it.

"The scorekeeper doesn't give two shits about these people. They wouldn't help you find the others, what in the hell makes you think they're worth risking your neck over them now?!" screamed Loda angrily as she straightened up next to the fighter, waving a hydrospanner at Vosshk who was trying to ease himself into the cockpit without much success.

He looked ridiculous in his bright yellow and orange vacuum suit, with a pair of goggles over his eyes that made him look like a gold fish. She sighed a little, wondering when it was exactly that she started to think him as something… more. It had been the furthest thing from her mind when she signed on 4 months ago, but now there she was, looking at him in his flight suit staring into the morning sun like something out of a holo novel, and realizing that there had always been something there.

Vosshk hopped down from the fighter, doing a final check and seemingly ignorant of her loud outburst. The R2 unit they had 'borrowed' was still beeping angrily in his socket, but by offering to help in this final gambit, he'd earned a stay of execution (mind wipe) at least for a little while. Vossk was no pilot by any stretch of the imagination, but maybe with the plucky R2's help, he'd be able to at least take the aging fighter out for a spin.

She'd said her peace about the foolhardy nature of his new plan, and she'd be lying if she didn't feel at least a little indebted to them for helping her escape the pitched gunfight back aboard the Jewel. Deciding finally that any attempt to talk Vosshk out of doing 'the noble thing' was out of the question, she decided to push on to other matters.

"Alright remember, left cannon is out and you can't take it beyond 600K per hour. Anything faster and you risk a piece of debris punching a hole through your skull. And that suit isn't going to do anything for you if-" she continued ranting when suddenly he walked up next to her and put a hand on her shoulder.

Vossk hissed something that was too distant for the translator to pick up on.

She felt her cheeks warm a little in response as he turned away, and hopping onto the wing and into the cockpit.

"You better, you stupid lizard. Alright, get airborne, I'll try to get you a location on them soon as I can" replied Loda as the fighters engine's spluttered to life, bathing the tarmac in a light pink and purple glow. She'd have felt a lot better about this if they'd had Rayne nearby to give the fighter a once over, but that was the whole point of this little bit of action wasn't it?

"If this fighter explodes, I swear I'm going to throttle that starship dealer…" she muttered under her breath as it slowly lifted into the air and blasted it's way across the horizon, racing away from the morning sun.

A hasty retreat...

It had all come crashing down.

Stitchface was beside himself with anger as he angrily walked back and forth on the tarmac of the landing platform. All the money, the work, the posturing, the threats… All gone in the blink of an eye. They had come so close to taking over things, only to be dashed by Talann and whomever it was that made it look like the Desilijic clan was to blame.

Now it was all for naught. Even if his soldiers were able to suppress and win the day tonight, the valley would never submit to their rule. Desilijic enforcers would be attacked in the streets, their businesses burned at every turn for so long as there were people who believed that bitch died at his hands.

Jabba… would not accept this. The clan would want answers, hundreds of thousands of credits were poured into this venture, and there would be blood for all of it having so atrociously backfired. For the first time in a very long time… Trense actually felt scared.

Eventually an assistant came by as the last of their 'assets' were loaded onto the shuttle.

"Sir, I think it's time we leave" said the executive droid.

"Yes… But first there's something we must do. Kitra; I want a hit put out on her, she's the one responsible for all of this going wrong. 15K, dead" attempted the mob boss, his words twisting uncomfortably in his mouth as if trying them on for size before relaying them to Jabba.

"Lady Kitra is a lieutenant in our organization Master; the cl-" began the droid before Stichface whirled around with fury and madness in his eyes. At some point he'd drawn his own blaster and leveled it at the droid's midsection in an all-too-initmate gesture of power.

"I know… what she is. And I don't care, make the call" huffed Stitchface, his voice barely within control. Thankfully the droid didn't care much for his threats; it's actual master had long since given him directives to monitor Stitchface and to go along with his wishes unless he stepped on certain… directives.

"Very well" continued the droid, it's eyes flashing a few times as it began to code a message. Stitchface couldn't care less though, he walked away onto the shuttle, his mind racing as he tried to think of what to do or say to Jabba. Even if he believed that Kitra was responsible for everything, it'd be a hard sell to say that he'd been so completely undermined by her.

With a final glance over the sparkling city of Naboo, Galadriel "Stitchface" Trense cast a final nervous farewell, not knowing if there was anywhere he could run that would be far enough from the reaches of the Hutt cartel.

Meanwhile somewhere on Naboo...

"Congratulations on your promotion Captain Davreau Hossien, wear the stripes well" said the holo of a uniformed man from a far away office.

Hoss snapped a crisp salute and offered his promises of making the company proud. It had come as a bit of a shock that the Thousand Suns had promoted him so quickly, but the loss of Gordo and another officer in this sector had meant they were stretched thin for capable operatives.

Unlike most military companies, the role of a Captain in the Thousand Suns wasn't entirely related to commanding military operations. Certainly a penchant for being able to handle an operation was a boon, but the real reason for the title was more ceremonial than anything else. A captain's badge meant the authority to solicit contracts, and possibly supplies under the Thousand Suns name, as well as being able to recruit locals to the chapter for missions.

… It also meant he'd start earning a commission on whatever he brought into the Thousand Suns; something which he was very much looking forward to.

"So Captain… As an operative of that sector you'll need to start soliciting work. We've got a few leads we could forward your way for wor-" continued the holo before Hoss cut in.

"Actually sir… I think I know just the people who might be interested in hiring some mercenaries on. If I'm right about them, they'll even have the credits to pay for it…"

Somewhere in the kitchens aboard the Jewel of Midnight

Loda Reene, the only other soldier to have stayed aboard the Jewel with Vosshk, gave the body on the deck a slight push with the tip of her boot. Her chest ached a little from where the chest piece had taken the hit, but otherwise she was glad to be alive. If it wasn't for the armor, she imagined it'd be her doubled over this shattered brick oven, instead of this guard.

Despite the ship running on backup generators, there was still a very slight hum to it that reverberated through the deck plates. It would almost be comforting if not for the other higher pitched hum in the room with her; belonging to Vosshk. The trandoshan's vibroblade shivered in it's owner's hand, effortlessly going through bone and meat as Vosshk claimed another scalp.

"Do you really have to do that boss?" she asked as she snapped the side of her blaster rifle open to check the charge.

The body Vosshk was working on collapsed to the floor as the scalp slipped loose of it's body to the slight sigh of contentment the trandoshan gave.

"If you have time to ask me that, you have time to check the bodies" hissed Vosskh in return as he wiped the blade clean on the guards sleeve.

Loda sighed and started patting down bodies. It was one thing to hit them while they had the element of surprise, but trying to stop the tide of guards who had regrouped to take the bridge had been messy. Vosshk studied the deck plans with their other three consultants and knew that a trip through the kitchen was likely, so they'd setup an ambush for the eight plain clothes guards.

Of course, when fifteen of them showed up instead wearing riot equipment, it became a slightly different game. Vosshk at least had the good sense to ask Rayne to kill the lights when the fighting started; swinging the fight wildly in their favor for the first few bodies, but after that it had been a slog.

"You think the others on the tow ships are alright?" she asked as she completed her check of one of the guards, stripping a blaster pistol of it's charge pack and what few key cards she could find.

Vosshk was surprisingly slow to answer as he completed his own check, pushing the nearest body over the side of a stove.

"If these goons are any indication of what they're up against, they will be fine. I just hope they can coordinate dropping us out of hyperspace. If we lose them, we're entirely beholden to Rayne to get us out of here" said the trandoshan carefully as he sheathed his blade.

"The blue chick? You really think that jittery waif can bring this carcass back to life? She almost jumped out of her skin when I tapped her on the shoulder during the drop" asked Loda as she gestured around the ornate kitchen covered in bodies.

Voshhk shot her a dirty look and Loda sighed.

"While we're on this job, she's one of us. Show some respect" snapped Vosshk as he gathered his little stack of scalps on a meat hook.

It was at this point that the ship took a sharp spin that could be felt in the deck plates. Even a casual glance out the window showed the blue corridor of hyperspace beginning to break down as the ship teetered off it's axis, while being pulled back into regular space.

"That's… probably not a great sign" whispered Loda as they quickly gathered their gear and began heading for the bridge. This day was starting to get a lot more interesting.

Talann sat on the edge of her bed, her body and mind numb as she stared at a wall. She had to let the cleaners go months ago, and it was fairly evident by the chaotic way datapads and empty bottles were scattered around.

Despite the… distance she felt in her mind; that fog that permeated everything she did, there was something left of cognition there. Talann could hear her children and the promise that she was missing their growing up, or the good people she had come to know in her life, or the joy she felt in knowing she was helping pull the foundation through; but with that came the realization of what she had squandered. That her life was a living hell, and that she was responsible for the destruction of her family's foundation and legacy. She hated that all the good work her father and mother did was so casually swept away because she herself had the audacity to sing a few songs. Thousands of the most vulernable people on Naboo were saved, and an online search of "Mistrunner foundation" invariably leads to celebrity gossip or a stupid song from a lifetime ago.

She felt her hands move like some sort of automation, and the distant sweet taste of brandy trickled down her throat, warming her and bringing the fog back.

And now Kyt was back. Talann been clean for a few years, doing her best to resist and help guide the foundation, but when the debts began to pile up; it got harder and harder to resist the lure of glitterstim. In hindsight, the invitation to meet Starbright Industries as a potential funder for the foundation had been a mistake; it just gave Stitchface a way to push his drugs on her and now she was falling rapidly into his pocket.

Intimacy and drugs quickly led to threats and his play for control of the foundation and it's industrial park. She extracted herself from the situation as quickly as she could of course, but by then he'd gotten too close.

She knew that she'd rather the foundation burn than fall to the Hutt's. The only good thing her family name was worth would not be used as a tool to lure more people back into a life of crime. If the Hutt's wanted to take Naboo, they would do so themselves, without her name on the death warrant.

So really the only question was whether it would be the death of her past, or the death of her future. Give up the foundation to the Hutt's and slander her family's legacy while throwing everyone they'd saved to the wolves; or throw her safety and that of her three children to the mercy of criminals.

The hopelessness of it all finished the bottle in her hand, as well as the next one. It was almost a welcome distraction when she read her messages, and realized that Kyt had been working with the Hutt's behind her back. She should've known that the timing of her appearance was just a little too convenient…

Talann clumsily grabbed her things and launched herself out the door to find her old friend and lover. It was time for a heart to heart.

To whom it may concern...

Dear Madam,

I regret to inform you that Saul Gordo has perished during combat operations.

Further to his demise, I must also inform you that due to reports from both his soldiers, as well as the client hired during this operation; Saul Gordo has been stripped of his rank as Captain, and terminated as an employee of the Thousand Suns.

Saul Gordo performed in a manner inconsistent with the expectations and traditions of this organization and put himself, his team, and his client in mortal danger through ignorance and cowardice.

It is with my deepest regrets that due to his termination as an employee of the Thousand Suns for behavior unbecoming of an officer; all posthumous benefits such as insurance and bereavement relief is hereby denied.

We have included a list of what personal effects were recovered after the operation was concluded. You have 30 galactic standard days to confirm you would like to have these objects shipped to you at your expense. Please note that we do not sort personal effects; so you must claim the entirety of the recovered objects if you wish any of them.

Shipping will be handled by a third party organization and the Thousand Suns claims no responsibility of the items nor their handling. If we do not hear from you within 30 galactic standard days, all objects will be considered the property of the Thousand Suns.

Captain Tash sat uncomfortably in his seat, adjusting the collar to his crisp Imperial uniform. The captain had served valiantly in action for over a decade and had always found the starchiness of his uniform to be a welcome sensation, but today… it felt constricting. He felt like a guilty man being interrogated, which struck him as strange given that he was rather proud of his career and station as the captain of the Victory Class Star Destroyer 'Charger'.

The main reason for his discomfort was the strange woman who had just stepped aboard their ship. She was striking, tall, and gave off the air of someone who would sooner slit your throat than share an awkward conversation. She wore no rank insignia, gave no name, and had the sort of clearance codes that told the captain that if she'd ordered them into a sun; the only question would be which one of Tatooine's two to point at.

"Captain, I want to thank you for your cooperation in this matter" she began as she paced the briefing lounge. The large room usually seated the command crew of the Charger, but tonight it was just the two of them.

"Of course, anything I can do for the Inquisitors" answered the captain nervously. While he had never met an inquisitor, he had certainly heard enough stories of them to be worried. Entire capital ships vanishing with all hands because the mysterious branch of the Emperor's independent operatives demanded it so.

"Excellent. Well, my men have gone through your sensor logs regarding your patrol over Tatooine and I'm sure you will find it of some comfort that we will be departing shortly"

The captain said nothing, keeping his eyes fixed on the large Imperial logo affixed to the wall across from him. He felt like a cadet being dressed down.

"There is just one final matter that I need to resolve, and its about the three pilots and their fighters. I understand Delta 7, 8, and 9 were piloted by these three on an air patrol yesterday?" she continued, sliding across a datapad for the captain to view. Tash took a moment to glance at through and nodded twice, he was fairly familiar with his crew and lik-

"Excellent, please tell your security to apprehend them at once and have them brought to my shuttle"

This time Tash felt the need to speak, he knew the three rookiees, they were young pilots fresh from the academy and he had seen how bright their faces had looked when he gave his orientation speech on their first day aboard the Charger.

"Excuse me Inquisitor but… may I ask what you intend to do with them?"

"You can, but I would not if I were you. Have their personal affects disposed of. You will find the datapads include a new captains log we would like you to record over the one you submitted yesterday"

The captain flipped through the speech quickly, noticing most of the words were identical except for…

"That ship that tried to jump into hyperspace from the surface? According to this log you want me to say that it shot down my three pilots before being shot down in turn as a fleeing pirate?!"

The inquisitor was already at the door, her hand against the frame waiting to open the door. She didn't answer the captain's question, but merely looked at him with a glance that suggested that one way or another; this log was going in the books. The only decision to make was whether it would be done by Tash or his soon-to-be-chosen replacement.

Captain Tash reached out a shaky hand to the comlink tied to the desk as she left, signaling the security chief. Whatever that ship was, he began to feel like the memory of those three smiling young faces who would soon be 'erased' was a smaller price to pay than whatever hell that ship was worth…

Summary:
As a follow up to Captain Gordo's report, Omega company held the crash site for a total of 9 days. We set up a defensive line while waiting on the contacts from Martellus. They arrived on the 9th day and were able to restore the asset to operational condition.

Omega Company had taken several casualties after days of prolonged fighting. On the 9th day, sand people switched their tactics, circling around us. Captain Gordo had been injured in a prior conflict and was perhaps too distracted to set up a rear guard, leading to us becoming flanked and suffering heavy losses.

As discipline broke down, Captain Gordo attempted to flee back to the ship and was shot down by sniper fire. It was at this point that I rallied what was left of Omega, securing the wounded and returning to the asset once the sand people fell back.

It is in my opinion that Captain Gordo acted poorly in the line of fire, and should be posthumously stripped of his title. If done, his shares in the operation, and compensation for being killed in the line of duty should be reallocated to the rest of Omega.

Due to extended action and further losses in the field, Martellus' contacts have graciously agreed to increase our compensation to 12,000 credits. It is in the company's opinion that Martellus' contacts acted with distinction and valor in the line of fire, and should be kept on as a reliable contact for any future operations they offer.

"I thought those people would never show" came a nameless voice over the comlink.

"Yes Dant; you've been saying these people would never show up for the last 3 days, but here they are so now you're going to shut up right?" replied another.

"I'll shut up when your momma mak-" began the first voice only to be cut off by the sound of a repeater lighting up.

"Target, 350 yards north by north west!" shouted another voice; probably Bridges the heavy gunner as another burst of heavy fire went out.

"Confirmed, light em up!" shouted another with a war cry as another repeater began to reach out, licking the dunes.

"Odd… They're not getting any closer?" said a voice, too drowned out by more repeater fire.

"That's right; you better keep back ragheads!" shouted Bridges again as she let another burst out.

"This is odd… they can't possibly hit us with their rifles either; why are they so far…" began an entirely different voice, probably Hicks by the grumbling but it was hard to tell as a week of hard, desperate fighting began to crack the discipline of the Thousand Suns mercenary squad.

"I WANTFIREDISCIPLINE" bellowed the unmistakable voice of Lieutenant Hoss as he joined the front trench.

It was probably a good thing that the LT and captain were back. If they hadn't returned, everyone would probably be going crazy burning ammunition on somethi-

Suddenly a scream, this one from the mortar position behind them. It took all of a second to realize the Sandpeople had suddenly appeared on the mountains. Even from the forward trenches they could see the sand people had started to surround them. For the moment they looked to be busy hitting the rear lines as well as pinning down the red woman who'd just driven into their camp.

"Echo team was watching our flank, where the hell did-" began Hoss as furious hissing began to jut in through the comlink.

"Rally and push them back; Bridges and Gaston keep the front line clear!" came the order as the mercenaries rallied together. The woman in red had begun another desperate dash towards them as archaic (but nevertheless; deadly) slugs peppered her every move.

1.) What do you want? What defines success for you? Hunting down someone who wronged you, retiring on a giant pile of credits, immortality, finding the last pendant of the lost treasure of the zy'bleans? (I totally made up the last thing, everyone knows that treasure got turned to ash).

(… or did it?)

2.) What's something you've done that you're not proud of? Could be some youthful indiscretion, a time when you hurt someone who didn't deserve it, a time you took a job you shouldn't have, etc… Doesn't have to be something that still hangs over you, it could be something you've made your peace with; but flesh out your past a little :D

3.) OOC: Outside of what's on your character sheet, what do you think you're really good at? To be specific, I'm looking for something that you think you're good at that you do not have a specific skill point/ talent for. Maybe you're good at sabaac, or nobody tells stories better than you, or you're good at knowing which restaurant is crap when you're on a new planet, etc…

4.) There's a man named Martellus; a shadowy information broker/ fixer who has set you up with jobs in the past. All of the work's been criminal, but you've always been paid on time and Martellus has always done right by you, even though you haven't heard from him in a few months. Trust is a strong word, but you're more likely to take up a job organized through Martellus than most any of your other contacts. Why do you think Martellus keeps bringing you aboard? What skills do you bring to the table that tell you Martellus sought you out as his first choice?

5.) Tell me about who's mad at you and why? There's at least one group out there that would sooner see you behind bars or 6 feet under. Tell me about them, and why your skin crawls when you hear their name?

(OOC: This antagonist can be as big as the Empire or the Rebellion, or a small as one person you left high and dry on a job. I'd like you to have at least one primary adversarial relationship that you would prefer to run from than fight. This may be because they have an overwhelming force, or maybe you just don't want to escalate things, or because deep down they mean something to you; but it should be something that would cause your character to think twice when you hear their name).

6.) You'd do practically anything for money… Except for that one thing? What is it? (Maybe it's a lot more than 1 thing, but where does that line first get drawn for you? Maybe it's slavery, or harming children, or littering. Whatever that line in the sand happens to be, at what point would you put up your hands and say 'nope, this is wrong'?)

That's about all the questions I have for you. You don't need to reply to me with the answers, just have them in your head as I'll want to speak to each of you before we get going.

The adventure log is where you list the sessions and adventures your party has been on, but for now, we suggest doing a very light “story so far” post. Just give a brief overview of what the party has done up to this point. After each future session, create a new post detailing that night’s adventures.

One final tip: Don’t stress about making your Obsidian Portal campaign look perfect. Instead, just make it work for you and your group. If everyone is having fun, then you’re using Obsidian Portal exactly as it was designed, even if your adventure log isn’t always up to date or your characters don’t all have portrait pictures.